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Title: Yard Work (Isn't Always Work)
Author: [livejournal.com profile] steinsgrrl
Fandom: Tokio Hotel (RPS)
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I in no way intend to insinuate that any of the below actually happened. It is simply a piece of written entertainment based on the public personas of real people.
Rating: R
Warnings: Adult Content, light kink, voyeurism
Summary: Bill has a sudden affinity for mowing the lawn. A little at a time.
Author's Note: Written at work for [livejournal.com profile] mmom, day 6. Beta'd at work by [livejournal.com profile] ma_chelle, without whom, I'd be lost. ♥

Tom shuffled down the stairs, holding his sweatpants up with one hand, the other over his eyes. The sunlight was bright, streaming through every damn window he passed, no matter which side of the house he was on, so he gave up and just covered his eyes, squinting through two fingers occasionally so he wouldn't run into anything.

Following the sounds of dishes rattling, Tom groaned his way into the kitchen and slid bonelessly into a chair at the table. He threw a disdainful glance at the window, the persistent sound of someone mowing their lawn grating on his nerves. "Isn't it too early for normal humans to be up? What time is it, anyway?" he asked, rubbing his palm a final time over his eyes and blinking at his mother where she stood at the stove. He missed her eye roll.

"Early for normal rock stars, maybe. The rest of us 'normal humans' usually have to get up for work. Some of us before dawn, even!" She snorted, her voice lilting with good-natured sarcasm, and pulled another plate from the cupboard. "Want some eggs while I'm dishing?"

Tom hummed, not really sure if his stomach was ready for food yet, but ended up nodding anyway. "Please."

Simone scooped a tall pile of scrambled eggs onto a plate, topped them with a piece of buttered toast she took from the pile she'd already made up, and slid it toward Tom. As soon as the scent of his breakfast wafted around him, Tom's salivary glands kicked in, his stomach growled menacingly, and he was ravenous. He'd shoveled several bites into his mouth, pausing to rip off pieces of cooling toast, and swallowed them down with a cup of strong coffee before he remembered his manners.

"Thank you for this," he mumbled around another mouthful of food.

"I wish your brother would get done and come eat before this all gets cold," Simone said, looking out the kitchen window. "Huh. I don't see him."

"Where is he?" Tom asked, forking the last few bites into his mouth and pushing the plate away. He swallowed deeply from his coffee mug, peering at the dregs before swirling them, shrugging, and downing the last bit anyway.

"He said something about mowing the lawn. I didn't think he'd even get the mower started, considering he's never been interested in yard work before, but he hasn't been back in for the last hour or so."

Tom hauled himself up from the chair and shrugged on his hoodie, hanging next to the door. He kissed Simone on the cheek before digging his cigarette pack from his pocket and heading for the door. "Mowing, huh? Weird." Tom shook his head. "I'll tell him to come eat."

The sun nearly blinded him again as Tom stepped outside the door and he found himself squinting into his hands, cupped over the end of his cigarette as his lit it. He took a deep drag and tucked his lighter back in his pocket, taking a look around for Bill. He didn't see his brother anywhere and where he should have heard the steady chug of the lawn mower, he heard nothing but birds singing and chirping lazily. Curiosity piqued in him now, and he stepped off the porch, intent on finding his brother, but before he had gone a handful of steps, Bill rounded the corner of the house.

His brother stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes shot wide for barely a moment as they landed on Tom, before Bill coughed and dropped his gaze.

"Bill--" Tom started, but Bill spoke at the same time.

"Mornin'," Bill mumbled, scooting past Tom quickly and heading for the door. Tom watched him go, his brows furrowed in confusion as Bill closed the door.

Bill had been wearing shorts and a tee shirt, all soaked from the belly down. Bits of his hair had escaped the band it was tied back in and stuck to his temples where he'd sweat. His cheeks were flushed, too, like someone who'd just spent a while mowing, but it was the guilty look he'd shot Tom on his way by that struck Tom as odd.

What was even more odd, Tom soon found, was that only a quarter of their mother's small lawn was finished.

***


Tom flexed his fingers, loving the burn of a good workout in his forearms. He and Gordon had been playing for half the afternoon, the sounds of their guitars complimenting and arguing with each other alternately while each tried to show off for the other. It was one of the few things that Gordon and Tom had all to themselves, something just for them to bond over, and they rarely passed up a chance to spend this kind of time together. But now, even with the grin still plastered on his face, Tom realized that maybe it was time for a break.

"Let's call it quits for now, huh?" Gordon said, pulling his guitar strap over his head and setting his Strat carefully on the guitar stand. "I told Simone I'd call her before she left the gallery. Want her to bring anything particular home for supper?"

"Nah. Whatever's good," Tom answered absently, flipped off the power switches to the amps as Gordon left the studio. Once the lights were shut off and everything was quiet, Tom stopped to realize...everything was quiet. He hadn't seen Bill since they'd fought playfully over the last piece of vegetarian bacon that morning, before Tom had rolled his eyes and ripped it in the middle, tossing half onto Bill's plate. And as much as Tom enjoyed his time with Gordon, it felt like time to catch up with his brother.

As soon as Tom exited the studio and trudged up the stairs, he heard it; the lawn mower. Bill was mowing the damn lawn again.

Probably finishing up what he slacked off on the other day, Tom thought, as he grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and headed for the door. As soon as his fingers touched the handle, the mower engine cut off. Everything was suddenly quiet, but for the low murmur of his step-father talking to his mother on the phone somewhere in the back of the house.

Bill hadn't yet come from the yard yet when Tom reached the corner of the house, but Tom still didn't see him. "Bill?" He ventured across the grass and noticed that the yard was still only half mowed. Shaking his head, he scanned around for his brother, eyes finally lighting on him where Bill stood on the patio. He had one hand propped against the house and the other held a running hose that he was using to spray water down his legs, up his groin and over his belly and Tom could see the hose shaking from where he stood.

"Bill? What the hell are you doing?"

Bill startled and nearly dropped the hose, recovering at the last moment before dropping it anyway and twisting the faucet closed. His face had gone a bright pink all the way up to his sweaty hairline, and he laughed nervously. Wet and shivering, Bill bit his lip. "Um. Grass clippings. Just...yeah, washing off grass clippings," he stammered and took off on a quick trot toward the house. "I gotta go..." he threw over his shoulder, and Tom lost the rest as he watched his brother scurry off.

Grass clippings? Tom wandered over to the concrete slab. The water Bill had run had turned the light grey of the concrete to dark, but there wasn't one blade of grass to be found anywhere near where Bill was standing. Tom frowned and sipped at his water thoughtfully. What on earth was his brother up to?

***


The next morning, Tom made sure he was awake before Bill. He set his cell alarm on 'vibrate' and tucked it under his pillow. After it went off, he laid there, curiosity eating at him and keeping him from falling back asleep, until Bill stirred in the next bed. Finally, when his brother was up, dressed in yet another pair of shorts and tee shirt, and out of the room, Tom slid from beneath his duvet and quickly threw some clothes on.

Simone was busy in the kitchen, ready to pamper her boys again for breakfast, since she so rarely got to anymore, but Tom barely remembered to kiss her quickly on the cheek on his way out. "I gotta...I'll be right back," he said, squirming out of her hug and grabbing his hoodie off the hook. He rifled through the pocket and held up his cigarette pack before scrambling out the door.

Even for summer, it was chilly yet at this time of the morning, and Tom slipped his arms into the sleeves of his hoodie gratefully, wrapping the warmth around his body as he walked as quietly as he could toward the corner of the house. The lawn mower was already started, the steady throb of it slowly fading and getting louder, the sound amplified as it bounced off the trees that surrounded their parents yard. Tom ducked behind one and peeked around the trunk at Bill, who walked back and forth through the grass behind a big, green machine that looked brand new. He shivered in the shade and wondered how his brother could stand to be out here in just his little tee shirt and shorts, even if he was mowing.

Then, as Tom watched, Bill slowed down. He slowed down to a crawl and began to mow again over what he'd just finished, which Tom thought was fine, since the blades weren't touching the grass anyway. No, Bill had tipped the mower up and the handle down until the metal bar jutted right into the middle of Bill's crotch.

Bill shot a quick glance toward the house and then screwed his eyes shut as Tom's widened and his mouth fell open. He watched his brother's steps falter and then stop completely, his quickened breath obvious from where Tom stood.

Tom gawked. No way was Bill doing what Tom thought Bill was doing. He couldn't be.

Out here? In the open? Where Mom or anyone could see?

Where Tom could see?

Could he?

But as Bill began to shake from more than just the vibration of the mower, it was obvious that, oh yes, he really could. He could and he was, and Tom whined as he watched Bill start to move his hips, start to subtly thrust against the handle of the lawn mower. His cock was hardening quickly inside his sweats and Tom palmed it hard as he imagined the feel of those vibrations against it. No wonder Bill was out here mowing the damn lawn all the time. Hard work was its own reward, he thought, wryly.

With a last, desperate look toward the house, Bill dropped his chin to his chest and gripped the mower handle so hard, Tom could see the white on his knuckles. His leg muscles clenched and he stood nearly on his toes as he rubbed frantically against the metal in his hands, and Tom shoved his own hand down his pants. He jerked himself quick and hard, his fingernails scraping at the bark of the tree he leaned against as he shot hard into his jockeys, watching a dark blue spot stain Bill's lighter blue shorts and even spread up into his shirt.

Tom knew what came next. Now Bill would go rinse off, not wanting anyone to see the mess he'd made of himself, and Tom knew it was either leave now or be stuck where he was until Bill went in. And he couldn't get caught with his own, growing wet spot, so he high-tailed it for the front door, stopping just outside to take off his hoodie and tie it crookedly around his waist. That would have to do until he could get to the bathroom, he thought as he went inside.

Simone was still in the kitchen, just reaching up to turn the stove burner off as Tom came in. "Hey, there you are. Do you want--?"

"I, um. I need to go take a quick shower," he said, inching his way through the kitchen, nervously trying to reach the bottom of the stairs. "I'll be right back," he promised, before dashing to the steps. Three steps up, he stopped, turned around and came back down.

Simone looked up at him as he poked his head back into the kitchen. "And by the way, Mom? Bill's never gonna get done with that lawn," he smirked. "Tomorrow, it's my turn to mow."
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